


Overlap

by ladyeternal



Series: Bindings 'verse [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst and Porn, Consensual Infidelity, El being awesome, El lays down the law, M/M, Neal's PTSD peeks around the corner for a minute, chess references, kinda angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-27
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:36:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1785946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyeternal/pseuds/ladyeternal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal respects Elizabeth too much to con her.  But both he and Peter are in for a genuine surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Overlap - Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Allusions through S1E8
> 
> Disclaimer: The series White Collar, its characters and settings are the property of their respective creators. I own little more than a tabby that gets destructive when he feels ignored, and am only playing with the White Collar world for my own amusement and the free entertainment of others.
> 
> Title card by [](http://dawnie-faith.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://dawnie-faith.livejournal.com/)**dawnie_faith**. Comments = Love. ♥
> 
> Music: [Is It A Crime – Sade](http://lyrics.wikia.com/Gracenote:Sade:Is_It_A_Crime)  
> [Love Thieves – Depeche Mode](http://lyrics.wikia.com/Gracenote:Depeche_Mode:The_Love_Thieves)  
> [Trouble In Mind – Starship](http://lyrics.wikia.com/Gracenote:Starship:Trouble_In_Mind)  
> [Overlap – Ani DiFranco](http://lyrics.wikia.com/Gracenote:Ani_DiFranco:Overlap)

  
[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/ladyeternal/pic/00004ab7/)  


~ooooOOOoooo~

 

So far as Neal could tell, Peter hadn’t told Elizabeth about that night. They hadn’t been together since then, but the memory still wrapped around Neal at unexpected moments, making him feel… safe. Kept. Cherished.

Peter didn’t threaten him anymore. Didn’t scowl… well, not quite so much, anyway. Neal would miss them too much if Peter stopped entirely. They didn’t touch. Neal knew better and Peter was too controlled. There were no lingering brushes, no “accidental” bumps.

But every once in a while, Peter would glance at him across his desk or the conference room or the table at the restaurant, and those almost russet brown eyes would turn to dark smoldering embers, and Neal’s blood flushed hot in his veins. He could feel Peter’s touch every time Peter looked his direction, and their eyes didn’t have to meet for Neal to be completely aware of what Peter had done to him that night… of the potential if it were unleashed between them again.

And Elizabeth would know it if she saw one of those looks. Peter was good, but it only took one unguarded moment…

Two-mile radii are handy things in Manhattan. It didn’t take much trouble to find a place to meet Elizabeth for lunch on a Saturday when she was working. Neal needed to tell her… she had been more accepting and considerate and gracious than he’d had any right to expect. He owed it to her to tell her the truth, whether Peter had or not.

* * *

“So, this is nice.” Elizabeth smiled at Neal across the table, sipping her water. “Peter was okay with this?”

“I didn’t think we needed his permission,” Neal replied smoothly. “We’re friends, after all… aren’t we?”

Elizabeth smiled, her eyes bright and knowing. “I think so… which is why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Friends, having lunch.”

“The point of said lunch being for you to tell me about you and Peter.”

Neal’s jaw dropped as Elizabeth’s perfectly manicured fingers picked up the menu card. “How…? Elizabeth… I-”

“I’ve known for years, Neal.” Elizabeth’s smile melted into seriousness. “Peter didn’t know, not until recently. He didn’t see what I saw.”

“What… did you see?” Neal had to take a drink of water to force words through his suddenly dry throat.

“The chase. The hunt. I watched you lead and him follow. He couldn’t let you go. We’d only been married three years, and I was watching him fall in love with someone else.”

“Peter doesn’t love me,” Neal cut in. His heart had lurched into his mouth and he didn’t think he had lungs anymore. It simply wasn’t possible.

Elizabeth’s gaze was steady as the waiter came for their orders. Her voice was cool, unwavering; Neal had to struggle to sound the same. When the waiter left the table, Elizabeth sipped her water. “How do you feel about him?”

The words stalled, choked back by the heart still in his mouth. Neal couldn’t speak. His mind refused to form the thought.

Deciding to have mercy on him, Elizabeth didn’t wait for an answer. His silence was answer enough for the moment. “I appreciate that you felt you should tell me, and I understand why you wouldn’t expect that I knew. But I was the one that pushed him to make it right with you.”

It wasn’t often that Neal Caffrey was surprised. Certainly not enough that it would show. So to say that his jaw dropping in undisguised shock was unusual was something of an understatement. Twice in the same conversation was unheard of. “You… making it right didn’t necessarily mean…” Neal trailed off as warm blue eyes fixed to his own with a steady, no-nonsense gaze. “Okay… how did you know that’s what was wrong?”

“Because unlike Peter, I knew it was only a matter of time before you two needed to work out what happened while you were in prison. I don’t think Peter once considered that aspect of your arrest and plea bargain.”

Neal took a sip of his water, a disgruntled moue pursing his lips. “How he missed the inevitability of it, I’ll never know. Hasn’t he ever seen _**Shawshank Redemption**_? Or a prison documentary? Does he even watch anything besides sports?”

Elizabeth reached for his hand across the table. “Neal… honey… Peter Burke is a good man… flawed, but good. You know that, and you love the flaws as much as the rest of him, or he wouldn’t have caught you the way you caught him.”

For a moment, Neal bit his lip and kept his eyes averted. He hadn’t counted on needing Peter as much as he did; hadn’t counted on the wounds of rape and despair taking so long to heal. And he definitely hadn’t counted on Elizabeth’s understanding. “So… we’re okay?”

“Of course we are… as long as you abide by some ground rules.”

Blinking as she withdrew her hand, Neal accepted his sandwich from the waiter almost absently. “Rules?”

“Yes, Neal: rules.” Elizabeth took a bite of her salad and chewed thoughtfully. “Rule number one: no sneaking around like a dirty mistress. I don’t expect a phone call every time you have a matinee, but if Peter’s with you after hours, let me know so I don’t worry. And no clever excuses.”

“O… okay.” Neal felt the urge to loosen his tie. He had the sudden, uncomfortable notion that Elizabeth had given this some serious consideration.

“Rule two: you are not less important to him than me. If Peter’s with you, then he’s with you. He is not to come sneaking home to me because he feels guilty. But I am his wife, and I get at least equal time.”

“Of course!”

Smiling at his startled expression, Elizabeth considered the list she’d prepared in her mind. “Rule three: if you’re with Peter, you’re not with anyone else. No dalliances, no marks. I’m not risking his health or mine on someone else’s assurances.”

“We were safe,” Neal assured her quickly.

“Can you promise that you always will be?” El countered. When Neal paused, she nodded. “And I don’t expect you to. I know how hard it can be to remember every time when you’re in a serious relationship. So I expect discretion from you. I know I’ll have it from Peter.”

Neal nodded. “Elizabeth… it’s not that I don’t appreciate this, but… why are you doing this? You don’t have to.”

She did, if her own plan was to succeed. Neal and Peter weren’t the only players in this game. But now wasn’t the time to discuss that. “I love my husband, Neal: enough to admit that if we hadn’t married before he met you, we probably wouldn’t be now… and Kate would be a distant memory.” She let Neal absorb that, the implications and might-have-beens, and then continued. “You will get tested before you seduce my husband again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Elizabeth mock-scowled at him. “Rule four plays into rule one: you are _not_ the dirty mistress. You will present yourself at our townhouse for dinner at least once a week, and you will _not_ pretend not to be sleeping with Peter just because I’m in the room. You don’t have to refrain from touching or flirting or even kissing; since I know about it, it’s not some giant secret you need to dance around.”

Neal suddenly grinned. “You’re a real have-your-cake-and-eat-it-too girl, aren’t you?”

Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth sighed. “I just know what will make Peter happy, Neal; he’s not good at sneaking or lying or feeling like he has to hide something from me. He hasn’t talked about the night you spent together, probably because on some level he knows I told him to do it, but he’s starting to get a little edgy.”

“So he’s getting a copy of the rules later on tonight?”

“You bet.” Elizabeth smiled a bit smugly. “He’ll protest, and swear it was a one-time thing, and that he loves me. The last part will be true, because it has been since we met and he lets me know it every day. But in the end, he’ll be happier if I let him have this.”

Neal’s eyebrow went up. “You aren’t suggesting that you don’t make him happy? Because, Elizabeth, let me tell you: he adores you… I-”

“I know that, silly!” Reaching out to touch his hand again, Elizabeth’s smile grew fond, comforting. “I know I make him happy. That’s part of why I’m letting him have this: I’m not threatened by what you two have. Back when our marriage was just getting started, I might’ve reacted differently.”

Taking a deep breath, Neal finished his sandwich and mulled over everything she’d said. “So… is that it? Any more rules I should know about?”

“Just one. Rule five: I will be supportive if you two have a fight, but I’m not picking sides, I’m not playing referee and I’m not fixing it for you. Peter and I have learned how to deal with fights in our marriage; you two will do the same. I’ll be there for you if you want to talk, or advice on how to fix things, but the rest is up to you.” Elizabeth gave him an arch look as she pushed her salad plate aside and steepled her fingers. “That’s it. I do reserve the right to change the rules or add new ones at any time, though.”

“Duly noted.” Neal crossed his arms on the table, his own plate pushed aside, and leaned forward. “Why are you doing this? What do you get out of it? And if you tell me this is all only for Peter, I won’t believe you. No one is that selfless.”

For a moment, Elizabeth considered telling him… it might make things easier… “No,” she finally said, deciding. “I’m not ready to tell you yet.”

“El-”

“You still have to earn _my_ trust, Neal Caffrey,” she warned, her voice low and stern, all trace of amusement gone. “You earned Peter’s somehow: something you said that night stayed with him after the sex wore off. That’s good for your relationship and needed to happen and I’m glad. But you’ve still got a ways to go with me.”

“Why?” Neal all but demanded. The contradiction she presented left him off balance. “What have I done?”

“It’s not something you’ve done yet,” Elizabeth replied.

“Then what-”

“Kate.”

Neal sat back, his eyes wide. The mention of Kate’s name, low and nearly hissed, left him cold. “What… what about her?”

“You think that if you do this, you won’t have to choose between Kate and Peter someday, Neal?” Elizabeth’s eyebrows lifted almost condescendingly. “I’m not asking you to, and I’m not saying you’ll have to decide anytime soon. But sooner or later, they will make you choose, and I don’t know what decision you’re going to make.”

“I love Kate, Elizabeth.” Neal’s voice pled for understanding… for an ally…

“I know that. And I’m not saying she’d be the wrong choice. Peter thinks so, but…” Sighing, Elizabeth sat back. “It’s enough for you to know that I want you and Peter to both be happy, and neither of you will be without this.”

“I’ll get it out of Peter,” Neal threatened, hoping to convince her… he _hated_ surprises.

“I’m not telling Peter, either,” Elizabeth countered. “Not yet. When the time is right… when I know if I can trust you… then I’ll tell you both.”

For a moment, Neal frowned. There was something here he wasn’t seeing. His mind tried to analyze the move she was making, to see the end of her strategy on the chess board… She just sat there, all serious blue eyes and soft porcelain features framed by hair as dark as his own, guarding her secrets at the same time she offered her husband… and not just his body, but his heart as well; Neal knew Peter could never give one without the other…

She was nothing like Kate. As similar as they appeared, they were light-years apart. And Neal found himself unable to push for the answers he wanted: not when she was being more generous than he’d ever have any right to expect. “Okay, El. I’ll let you lead this dance.”

“Thank you.” The smile she flashed was genuinely grateful, and Neal wondered exactly what it was that this amazing woman wanted that she couldn’t trust him enough to ask for yet… and apparently couldn’t get from Peter. “Now, shall we have something sweet before we go?”

* * *

When Elizabeth got home that evening, Peter had made dinner. He’d been doing things like this regularly over the last few weeks, and Elizabeth found it rather sweet that Peter was trying to subtly make up for his “infidelity” by being generally wonderful. “Smells wonderful,” she commented, kissing his cheek.

“Been all I can do to keep Satchmo out of it,” Peter grumbled. His smile belied any genuine grumpiness, which was something Elizabeth always found endearing. “How was your day?”

“Busy,” she replied. “But the Cortese affair is finally pulling together. Oh, and I had lunch with Neal.”

A plate clattered as Peter’s fingers went nerveless and clumsy. Fortunately, it wasn’t a long drop to the counter. “You did?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Peter’s breath shook imperceptibly. “What did you… talk about?”

Placing a calming hand at the center of Peter’s back, Elizabeth pressed a kiss to his upper arm. “You. He felt the need to tell me about what happened while I was in the Hamptons. It was rather sweet, actually.”

Abandoning dinner for the moment, Peter turned and pulled his wife into his arms, almost as if she would bolt if he didn’t. “El, I’m sorry. You have no idea how… it was… I twisted it all around in my head until I thought you knew and were okay with it and I never should have done it… but you said to make things right with him and that’s the only thing I could think of-”

Her lips stopped his tirade, pressing up and into his with gentle forgiveness. “It was the only way to make things right,” she echoed, no mockery or sarcasm in her voice; just honest agreement. “He was raped, Peter. People recovering from any kind of trauma need someone they can trust. There are three people Neal Caffrey trusts in this life: ‘Haversham’, as you call him; Kate and you. I doubt Neal’s attracted to ‘Haversham’ from the way you’ve described their relationship. Kate abandoned him. You’re the only one left who can help him pick up the pieces. And you’ve been infatuated with him since before you arrested him.”

“I have **_not_** been infatuated,” Peter protested. “Fifteen year old girls get infatuated.”

“Would you rather I used the word obsessed?” At his scowl, she laughed. “Whatever you want to call it, Peter, you and Neal have a chemistry that I’d be an idiot to try and fight. So I gave you the permission you didn’t think I’d ever give without saying what I was giving you permission for, and you did what you’ve both wanted to do for years.”

“So… you’re not angry?” Peter wasn’t quite sure how to take this… wasn’t sure how Neal would have taken it. They were both probably at the same level of confused.

“You know the answer to that, Peter,” Elizabeth chided. “If I hadn’t wanted you to do it, I wouldn’t be here now that I have confirmation that you did.”

“Neal’s right: I do have an amazing wife.” Peter tucked her closer, resting his chin against the top of her head and breathing in the scent of her hair. “I love you, El… you have no idea how much.”

“I think I do,” she replied softly. Peter’s arms made her feel safe… beloved… she knew Neal must feel the same way when Peter held him. Surprisingly, she really did feel no jealousy over that concept; she kept waiting to, expecting that something or another would be the last straw. It was expected, after all: most women wanted their husbands all to themselves.

Then again, most women didn’t have the opportunity that she was playing for, nor nearly half so many reasons for it.

“It won’t happen again,” Peter promised.

“Yes, it will,” Elizabeth insisted, her voice taking on the same stern note she’d used on Neal earlier. “Neal needs more than just a one-night stand to recover, Peter… and what the two of you feel for each other isn’t going to go away just because you ignore it.”

“El…”

She pulled back and gave him such a warning look that he shushed instantly. “Don’t, Peter. Neal and I had a long talk today, and I laid out the rules. You’re going to abide by them, and you’re going to give him what he needs and what you both want, and you’re not going to feel the tiniest bit guilty over it.”

It took Peter a moment to recover, but he knew his wife better than Neal did. She was serious, and she knew her own mind better than anyone Peter had ever met before. So rather than continuing to put up a fight, he bent, kissed her softly, and then turned to serve their waiting meal. “Okay: so what are these rules?”

Elizabeth smiled; she’d known Peter would give over, was glad he was doing it without too much argument. “Rule number one: no sneaking around and no clever excuses. If you’re going to spend time with Neal after things have settled down at work, let me know so I don’t worry about you. Rule two: do not treat Neal like he’s less important to you than I am. Don’t come sneaking home to me because you feel guilty about the idea of leaving me alone all night to stay with Neal. I get at least equal time with you, but Neal deserves more than just, ‘the sex was great but the wife’s expecting me, so I’ll see you in the morning’.”

Peter actually laughed at that one as they settled in at the dining room table. “You’ve given this some thought, huh?”

“I **know** you, Peter.” Elizabeth’s hand brushed through the air in emphasis before she poured them both a glass of wine. “Rule three: You will _not_ pretend not to be sleeping with Neal just because I’m in the room. He will be coming over at least once a week for dinner and you will not get jumpy and act like I’m going to start hurling china at your heads if you touch him like you care.”

“That it?”

“No. Rule four: you will not treat this like just another way to keep Neal from thinking about Kate or going back to his old tricks. Whether you admit it or not, you and Neal have a much deeper connection than that and I won’t have you pretending that you don’t. Rule five: I’m willing to help if you and Neal are having a fight; I’m willing to be supportive and hear your side, but I’m not going to fix it for you and I’m not going to let you just throw up your hands and give up on the relationship. You two have a problem, you two fix the problem, just like we do in our marriage.” She lifted a bite of the baked chicken to her lips and chewed thoughtfully. “That’s it. Like I told Neal, I can change the rules or add new ones at any time, but those will do for a start.”

“Neal didn’t like that too well, I’m sure,” Peter commented. “He doesn’t like to admit there are _any_ rules in life.”

“Be nice, Peter.” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at him. “Like them or not, he agreed to my terms. Are you going to?”

That question brought a cough and a stare at her in total shock. “You think I wouldn’t?”

“You are as good as or better than Neal at finding ways around rules you don’t like,” she countered coolly. “Do we have a deal?”

There were a million questions Peter wanted to ask, but the steel in those beautiful blue eyes silenced them before they could be voiced. Peter knew Elizabeth well enough to know that she wouldn’t answer them. “Deal.”

* * *

There was no opportunity to discuss their new situation on Monday. Hughes had dropped a priority case on Peter’s desk and his entire team was thrust into a flurry of activity. There didn’t seem to be a single moment when they were alone enough to discuss anything. Alone, yes: in Peter’s office and at the site where they were setting up surveillance and for just the barest minute in the conference room while Lauren was grabbing a file and Jones was on his way back with lunch. But a few knowing, heated glances were all they dared to manage.

Every time those brown eyes raked over him, Neal felt like he’d been scorched. He’d never wanted to find a broom closet and tear someone’s clothes off so badly in his life. Peter would never risk it, and Neal knew it. Peter didn’t thrill at the risk of being caught the way Neal did. Peter didn’t live his life taking risks.

Jones took Neal home that night; Peter was staying late in the office to tie up loose ends. From the moment Neal stepped into his suite after bidding June good night, he felt strange, like his skin didn’t fit properly. He was suddenly pulling off his clothes in hasty abandon and taking the longest hot shower since he’d moved into this palace, a lavender aromatherapy tablet dissolving at his feet. He needed to be calm… he needed…

He needed to be touched. He needed to know Peter understood. He needed Peter.

Kate was supposed to be his only love. The one person for whom he would give anything, do anything, be anything. It was her touch he was supposed to crave and her voice he was supposed to imagine whispering to him in the dark. She was supposed to soothe the nightmare that his prison term had been and make him trust the reactions of his own body again. They were supposed to be soul mates.

Except it wasn’t the gentle touch of those soft fingers that his body wanted right now.

The realization struck hard, sending Neal to his knees in the shower stall. The contrast between cool tile and warm water sent shivers up his spine as he realized that, more than anything, he wanted to feel the touch of large, warm callused hands… the hands of a man who was probably even now making love to his wife in a townhouse just beyond Neal’s radius.

Just out of reach. Just like Kate.

Fighting back a cry, Neal forced himself to his feet and out of the shower. He toweled off and pulled on pajamas and slipped into bed, curling up almost into a fetal position. Even safely behind his cell bars in prison, he’d tucked himself up like this to sleep.

His heart aching and need screaming along every nerve, it was a long time before Neal slept that night.

* * *

At dawn, Neal gave up the attempt to sleep and called Mozzie. “Moz, you know any rapid test clinics in the area?”

_”A couple. You in trouble?”_

“Just want to follow up on the blood-work they did after I got out. Make sure they didn’t miss anything.”

_”Yeah; probably a good idea. I’ll text you the closest one to June’s._

Neal didn’t say anything to the staff as he left far earlier than usual, hailing a cab to the clinic and paying the cabbie well enough to wait until he returned. Fifteen minutes later, with a phone number to call for his results on Thursday tucked into his pocket, Neal tried to banish the previous night from his thoughts as he gave the cabbie the address of a coffee shop where he could get breakfast.

Peter saw the signs of too-little sleep in Neal’s eyes when Neal arrived, but he had no time to address it. The case was moving fast, and as always, Neal’s freedom rested on its resolution. He didn’t take the time to remind Neal of that fact anymore, but it was still a prominent concern in his own mind.

When Peter had to stay late a second night, Neal caught a cab home. Peter hadn’t liked it, but Neal had looked at him with solemn blue eyes, cutting reminders of their agreement to trust one another silently scything out from them as each second ticked by, and Peter had simply called the cab company himself and warned Neal not to take any detours.

Neal didn’t sleep well that night, either.


	2. Overlap - Part Two

  
[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/ladyeternal/pic/00004ab7/)  


~ooooOOOoooo~

 

By Thursday, Peter decided he’d put off addressing the change in their relationship too long. Neal was his usual vivacious self around others, but those blue eyes were dull and his responses weren’t as quick; to everyone else, the difference was barely noticeable, but Peter knew Neal far too well. Before leaving the office, Peter called Elizabeth and told her that Neal was obviously not sleeping well and he was going to try and find out what the problem was.

_“Peter, remember rule one?”_

“I’m not making up an excuse, El. He really looks rough. I’m worried about him. Can we have lunch tomorrow?”

_”Of course, Peter. Tell Neal to remember the rules tonight, too; okay?”_

“Yeah. Love you.”

_”I love you, too.”_

It almost surprised Neal that Peter was escorting him home tonight, but he said nothing as they climbed into the Taurus and pulled into the near-gridlock that was Manhattan traffic. Peter watched him; Neal watched the road. It was unnerving when Neal was this quiet, and Peter could tell that Neal was subdued because whatever was depriving him of sleep was intruding on his waking thoughts, too.

When they arrived at June’s, Peter declined her offer to join her at dinner for both of them. “Just thought we might be able to come at it from a fresh angle if we got out of the office… and your guest quarters have one heck of a view.”

June smiled, charmed; Peter wasn’t as visually stunning as Neal, and his manner wasn’t always as easy, but she found him delightful just the same. “I’ll send a tray up for you both, then.”

Neal smiled and kissed June on the cheek. “Thanks, June. You won’t be too lonely with us upstairs, will you?”

“Oh, no, dear. I’m expecting Ana and Cynthia as well. You can meet them another time.”

Once safely upstairs, Neal locked the door as Peter was shrugging off his coat and blazer. “Thanks… didn’t quite know how to tell her no.”

“I get the impression that’s a problem for you where women are concerned.” Peter smiled at him, and then gave in to the urge he’d felt since Monday morning… really, for the last month. He crossed the distance between them, took Neal’s face in his hands and kissed him.

Neal gasped into his mouth, and then wrapped his arms around Peter and clung as if to a rock in a storm. Peter’s lips weren’t urgent: were soft and beguiling and almost soothing against his own. Neal’s body sighed into Peter’s, relieved to find that he was still welcome there, and he slowly began to relax.

Almost reluctantly, Peter lifted his mouth far enough from Neal’s to speak. “I’ve wanted to do that for weeks.”

“You should have then,” Neal replied. “Not like I would have stopped you.”

“You know why I haven’t.”

Sighing, Neal tipped his forehead forward until it touched Peter’s. For a moment, he just rested there, eyes closed, breathing in the scent and the closeness and the safety… “I’ve missed you.”

“Me, too.” It was a long moment before Peter willed himself to remember that dinner would be coming up the stairs, and ‘Haversham’ could stop by unannounced, and there was Neal’s sleeplessness to address and their separate conversations with Elizabeth to discuss. That in mind, Peter eased away from Neal with a gentle kiss to those tempting lips. “We need to talk, Neal.”

A grimace twisted across Neal’s mouth. “I thought that was what you had in mind. About El?”

“Partly.” Peter moved away, more to keep a distance between them so that he could think than anything else. “She told me about your lunch Saturday; when I called her tonight, she wanted me to remind you about the rules she gave you.”

A short laugh, and Neal was shaking his head as he stripped off his jacket, tie, waistcoat, shoes and socks. “Your wife really is amazing, Peter. I definitely didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did I, to be honest.” Peter slid off his own shoes and loosened his tie. “She knows her own mind, though; whatever her reasons, she wants us to have… whatever this is.”

Neal noticed the refusal to label their relationship, a bit relieved by it. Elizabeth might think they were in love, but Peter wasn’t making such declarations yet. “It was all I could do not to laugh; she kept saying I shouldn’t think of myself as ‘the dirty mistress’.”

Peter laughed. “As if you could be a dirty anything. You’re fastidious to the point of compulsive.”

“I like looking good, Peter,” Neal replied with wounded dignity. “And you like looking at me.”

“I’d like to do more than that,” Peter heard himself say. When did he ever come off sounding so smooth? _Neal must be rubbing off on me._

In a flash, Neal was there, and they were tumbling onto the couch, and Neal was kissing Peter like it had been years. Peter gave in to the voraciousness of Neal’s hunger almost too easily, letting Neal’s hands roam where they chose and generally rumpling Peter beyond redemption.

Peter didn’t much care about the rumpling. It was always Neal who was immaculate, buttoned down and freshly laundered and looking like he’d pitch a fit if there weren’t enough starch in his collar. So Peter’s fingers slipped up between them and unbuttoned Neal’s shirt, his movements almost too careful for Neal to notice, and then his hands were reaching inside and skimming the warm flesh of Neal’s slender frame and Neal moaned into his mouth.

“If I’d never seen you eat, I’d swear you live on alcohol and adrenaline,” Peter murmured.

“Don’t tease me, Peter,” Neal whispered back, his lips brushing over Peter’s jaw.

“Would you rather I did something else, then?”

“Touch me,” Neal almost begged. “Please, Peter: I need you to touch me…”

The urgent words drove Peter into a haze. He vaguely remembered nearly tossing Neal onto his back and covering that slender body with his own, and Neal’s legs shifting, wrapping around his waist, taking his weight where Neal wanted it most, and Peter was trailing love bites down Neal’s throat while his thumbs teased Neal’s nipples until they puckered and hardened under his touch. Neal was moaning like it was the end of the world, arching his hips up into Peter’s until the friction of clothing against tumescent flesh had Peter almost stripping Neal naked with his teeth.

A firm, polite knock at the door shocked both lovers back into reality. Dinner. Peter pulled Neal up and Neal was on his feet in less than a second, his shirt buttoned respectably and tucked into his pants before he opened the door. “Thank you, Maria. It smells wonderful.”

“Miss June said to tell you that if you gentlemen wish to take a break from your work, she and her guests will be having a nightcap in the library after dinner, and will not likely retire until late.” Maria noted the way both men appeared slightly flushed, and the elder looked faintly embarrassed, and tried not to smile. “Will you need anything else tonight, Mr. Caffrey?”

“No, Maria. Thank you. Sleep well.” Neal’s smile was warm and genuine as he closed the door behind the maid, but it dissolved into relief as soon as her steps echoed down the hall. “Oh, boy.”

“Think she figures we were just making excuses to June?” Peter asked, coming to the table.

“I’d be shocked if June didn’t think the same thing,” Neal replied, removing the covers from the dinner plates to reveal poached salmon, jasmine rice and freshly steamed vegetables. “I’ve got a white chilling that will go perfectly with this.”

“Do you ever drink beer?” Peter asked as he fetched wine glasses.

“I hate beer.” Neal said it quietly, but with a good deal of heat. “I can tolerate microbrews if I have to, but I’d be perfectly happy never touching the stuff for the rest of my life.”

For a moment, Peter said nothing. For all that he knew about Neal Caffrey, for all that he’d learned during the three-year hunt for the man, there were a lot of things he didn’t know about the life that had shaped this heart-stoppingly irresistible creature before him. Rather than push for answers, he placed the two glasses on the table and turned to pull Neal close as he approached with the wine. “You’re high maintenance, Neal Caffrey.”

“Aren’t I worth it?” Neal challenged with a toss of his head.

“Like almost no one else,” Peter replied. A light kiss, and he released Neal to let him pour the wine. “So you figure June thinks we’ve been together since the beginning?”

“Not sure. We’ve talked about some things; mostly, I just let her talk about her life. She’s a fascinating woman, and she’s met people I’ve only dreamed of meeting.”

“Is that why you talked her into letting you live here?” Peter asked as they sat down.

“Peter…” Neal sighed in slight exasperation. “I couldn’t stay in that rat hole. It wasn’t safe and the conditions were worse than they were in prison. I know you think it’s because I’m a spoiled peacock who cons his way into the good life because he doesn’t want to live like mere mortals or work for a living. I know what you think of me.”

Peter idly poked at his food with his fork for a moment. He wasn’t good with words, not all the time. He managed to say the right things enough of the time to stay married, and now he was going to need to do it twice as often… maybe even three times as much, if Neal’s insecurities were any indication. He’d clearly put his foot in his mouth a few dozen times since Neal’s release.

“I don’t think you’re a spoiled peacock,” Peter refuted softly. “I just don’t understand, Neal. Even with everything I know about you, I don’t understand you.”

“I never answered your question,” Neal said quietly. “That night, when we were trying to clear Dana’s husband of the Iraqi antiquities theft? You asked Moz and me why we did it.”

“Yeah… I remember.” Peter smiled. “ ‘Haversham’ started in about not living by other people’s rules, and you tried to shush him.”

“Well, that’s why he does it.” Neal took a sip of his wine to try and settle his nerves. “Maybe… someday, I’ll tell you why I did it, Peter. Someday, I might just tell you everything.”

“After the statute of limitations has expired?” Peter asked, not entirely sarcastically. He wished the words back as soon as he said them.

Neal’s eyes flared. “Peter…”

“I’m sorry.” Peter reached across the space between them and took Neal’s hand. “A joke; a bad one. I’m not like you, Neal; I say the wrong things… and I can only say I’m sorry when I do.”

After a moment, Neal relaxed. It wasn’t a warning shot about prison. It was harder to keep the veneer of imperturbability when he was alone with Peter. It was hard to keep anything from Peter, period. “Sometimes, saying all the right things gets you into just as much trouble,” he conceded softly. He turned his hand over beneath Peter’s, clasping it gently to let him know that it was all right.

* * *

Somehow, they managed to finish dinner and wash the dishes without saying anything more of real importance. Neal even suggested that it might make Peter more comfortable if they went down for that nightcap with June and her guests, just in case he didn’t want June thinking that they were lovers. Peter, not sure how to begin talking about everything between them, agreed.

Neal reached for the door just before Peter. Peter’s hand slid over Neal’s wrist, his muscles wrapping his fingers around the slender joint rather than the doorknob they had been poised to capture before his mind could shut down the movement.

They didn’t make it out the door.

Neal gasped. Peter’s self-control snapped. The younger man was yanked and spun and Peter’s lips were on his and Neal didn’t care that the door was unlocked and anyone might walk in; he just kissed Peter back, a far more powerful appetite roaring to life now that his stomach’s was appeased.

Peter would eventually apologize for any tears in Neal’s borrowed wardrobe. He would pay for the tailor’s repairs. Neal would not apologize for the damage he did and would replace anything that was even mildly rent with something Peter would rather die than pay the money to own.

“Drawer,” Neal gasped as Peter tumbled him, naked and on fire, across the duvet. “Lube… condoms…”

“You stocked up.” Peter’s voice was a husky growl of approval as he fetched what he needed.

Neal barely had time to shove the duvet back before Peter pounced, sprawling both of them across the 400-count percale sheets and sinking his teeth possessively into the tender skin at the nape of Neal’s neck. Neal arched back with a cry, his hands reaching back to sink into Peter’s hair. “I… didn’t want to risk it if… if this… oh, God, Peter…”

Peter’s hands were busy teasing his sensitive nipples, lightly pinching and tugging and drawing gasping little cries from Neal’s lips. “You’re so damned beautiful, sweetheart…”

“Peter… Peter…” Neal was desperate to find words… “I’m clean…”

Lips ghosted over his shoulder as one warm, firm hand traced the gentle taper of his hip. “Good.”

Neal gave up on words. Peter’s hands roamed his body with almost casual possessiveness, as if he were merely relearning the lines of a treasured item once thought lost. Neal writhed against him, pressing his hips back and rubbing against the latex-covered erection pressing firmly against his buttocks. He begged with moans and raw need, aching for Peter with a fierceness that shocked him. Neal shouldn’t need him this much… Neal didn’t need anyone this much… not even…

Her memory was banished before it could intrude as the fingers of Peter’s left hand wrapped around Neal’s arousal and the fingers of his right slowly coaxed lubricant into Neal’s grasping muscles.

Forced to relinquish his hold on Peter for the moment, Neal’s own hands fell to the sheets and dug hard, his teeth sinking into his lower lip to try and control the sound of his own desperation… Peter was stroking inside and out, hands methodically matching each other’s rhythm, lips brushing light kisses wherever they wished…

When Peter’s leg nudged between his and the hard heat he needed slid to his core, Neal felt like he had burst into flames. Peter’s left hand kept stroking, his hips now keeping the time his right hand had been, and Neal pressed as far back into Peter as he could, his left hand sliding to grip Peter’s left wrist and the right reaching back to sink into Peter’s hair… Peter’s right hand resumed its travels over his skin, teasing whatever sensitive spots it could find, urging Neal higher… higher…

“Please… Peter, please…”

“Come for me, sweetheart… I love watching you…”

Neal ground back into him, his body clenching. “Not alone… please…”

Peter’s lips brushed his ear. “You’re not alone anymore, Neal.”

The husky words spiked through Neal’s blood and it was the last he could take. He clutched at Peter as he exploded, feeling Peter follow a moment later through the thin latex that separated them, his name a groan on Peter’s lips.

Neither moved. Neither wanted to. Neal was still curled into the protective circle of Peter’s body, Peter’s arms wrapped around him to cradle him in the aftermath. Neal left his eyes closed. He let his body soak up the warmth of Peter’s body, the texture of Peter’s skin against his own, the comfortable not-quite-fullness of Peter still inside him. He imprinted the faint linger of Peter’s aftershave and the sound of Peter’s breath in his ear and the overwhelming sense of safety that this man gave him.

Neal hadn’t been safe is so long, he barely remembered being so outside of Peter’s arms.

When Peter finally disengaged to dispose of the condom and get a damp cloth, Neal didn’t feel overwhelmed as he had the last time. He rolled onto his stomach and watched the strident form of his lover, unabashedly naked as he walked through the suite. A smile tugged at Neal’s lips. Peter’s face was beautiful in its honest lines: the stubborn slash of his mouth and the strong curve of his jaw and the deep set of his eyes. His body, on the other hand…

So often hidden by mediocre suits, Peter was well-toned and smoothly muscled; he obviously worked hard to keep in shape, and it showed. Neal’s gaze was frankly admiring as Peter returned, drawing a questioning look from the older man. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Peter. You go to all that trouble to stay in this kind of shape, and you practically dress in burlap sacks.”

Peter reclined on the bed and kissed Neal, stroking the wash cloth gently over Neal’s stomach and thighs. “Unlike you, I like to live within my means.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t treat yourself, Peter. One well-tailored suit is worth fifty off the rack.”

“And costs twice as much,” Peter retorted. “Stop trying to turn me into a clothes horse. I stay in shape because I need to and the way I dress is perfectly fine.”

The quirk to Neal’s lips and the shrug of his shoulders conceded nothing. “I’m going to tear your clothes off every chance I get, just so I can replace what I destroy with something better.”

“You plan on affording that how?”

“I’m sure Elizabeth will help me pay for them; she’d probably love to see you in something that you didn’t find on the clearance rack at Macy’s.”

A soft grunt was the only reply Peter felt that comment deserved, and as soon as Neal was no longer sticky, he curled Neal up against the pillows. “You wanna tell me what’s been bothering you this week? You haven’t been sleeping; I can tell.”

“Not really, no.” Neal nestled close, tucking his head into the hollow of Peter’s shoulder and letting Peter’s heartbeat drum beneath his ear. Outside, it started to rain, the patter of droplets against the glass wall a soothing counterpoint.

“You gonna tell me why?”

For a moment, Neal almost considered telling him no. But the request held no demands, only concern, and Neal couldn’t argue with Peter when he sounded like that. “I’m just a little… conflicted.”

Peter could guess what Neal felt conflicted about. His feelings for Kate were at war with his obvious need for the fire that leapt between them whenever they touched. And it ripped at Peter’s heart to know it, knowing what he did about Kate’s real feelings for Neal. “You don’t have to do this, Neal. We don’t have to do this if you’re going to beat yourself up about wanting it when we’re apart.”

“But I _do_ want this, Peter. That’s the thing.” Neal sighed and tucked closer, tracing his fingertips over the soft hair on Peter’s chest. “You were right about me and Kate that night. Sex with her wasn’t part of a game. This isn’t either… and I wasn’t expecting it not to be. I was expecting that it would be part of our game, the way everything else was for so long. This… it’s not a game anymore. We’re not a game anymore… and I’m not sure what I think of that yet.”

“Do you want me to keep my hands to myself until you figure it out?” Peter’s right hand stroked down Neal’s back in complete opposition to the concept.

“No!... No, that’s not what I want at all. I just…” Neal sighed. “I can’t figure either one of you out.” He propped himself up to look at Peter. “Do you know why El agreed to let this happen? She told me she wasn’t going to tell you, but you know her…”

“Sorry, Neal. She’s playing this one close to the vest; I have no idea what made her decide I could have you.”

 _Not just ‘a man on the side’. **Me.**_ Neal suppressed the grin of happiness that threatened as warmth blossomed at the thought. “She’s the other part I can’t figure out. I _hate_ it when I can’t see the whole board.”

“The queen’s got unrestricted movement,” Peter replied with a grin. “Everybody else is limited by where she lets them go.”

“Does that make you the king?” Neal quipped back.

“Nope. I can move a lot more than one square at a time.” Peter stroked his hair, smiling that warm, almost goofy smile that made Neal feel gooey inside. “The king’s the one everybody protects, because he’s not free to move where he chooses.”

Neal felt his heart pound. “Oh.” Managing a smile back, he laid back down to rest against Peter’s shoulder, his thoughts riotous. Peter had said something significant there… and Neal wasn’t sure what it meant.

There was a long moment of silence. Peter’s hand massaged gentle circles at the small of Neal’s back as they listed to the rain against the windows.

“You’ve done this before,” Neal finally said softly, shifting to look up at Peter again with plainly curious eyes. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” Peter hoped he could get away with just giving confirmation. Those blue eyes boring into him, lit with a hundred questions, and he sighed. “In college, before joining the Bureau. My best friend was gay. We used to share stories… and I suppose they started to make me curious.”

“You didn’t get freaked out when he told you?” Neal was frankly surprised.

“No. It’s all chemical signals and hormonal responses; hard-wired stuff. That’s not something to freak out over.”

“So you were supportive, and curious. When did it become more?”

For a moment, Peter wanted to protest, to tell Neal it wasn’t his business. He’d never discussed the extent of his relationship with Jeremy, not even with Elizabeth. But blue eyes gazed at him, waiting, and Peter couldn’t say no. “Sophomore year, we got to pick roommates. Naturally, we chose each other. We’d decided to before freshman year was even over; we just clicked. People said we were as close as brothers.”

“And you fell in love?”

Peter laughed. “Nothing that moony, Neal. We… I did love him. Do love him. But we weren’t writing bad poetry and giving each other calf-eyed looks across the quad and swearing our undying devotion. It was… quieter than that. We cared about each other, a lot, and one night…

“It had just been one of those very bad, not good days, you know? One of those days when none of your pens work and you spill coffee all over your one clean shirt and nothing goes the way it’s supposed to. We bailed on everything as soon as our classes let out and holed up in our dorm with microwaved Ramen and whatever else was in the fridge. My Ramen came out okay, but his bowl had a chip we hadn’t seen and it shattered in the microwave. Made a Hell of a mess. We were cleaning up and managed to dump whatever it was I was drinking all over my bed, and Jeremy threw his hands in the air and said: ‘The only way to salvage this Goddamn day would be mind-blowing sex’.”

Neal laughed, understanding completely.

“So I said, ‘With who?’, and he said it didn’t matter as long as the guy was hot and he could come hard enough to forget his own name, let alone this rotten day. So I told him unless he was willing to try his luck outside our locked door, I’d have to do.”

Peter’s face softened as he remembered, a smile playing at his lips. “He looked so surprised, like it was the last thing he’d expected, like I must’ve meant it as a joke. But neither of us were seeing anyone and I… I cared about him a lot, and then there was the curiosity… so I kissed him.”

“Did you have the mind-blowing sex he wanted?” Neal couldn’t help asking.

“Not that night,” Peter said, laughing. “He said, with our combined luck, there wouldn’t be a drop of lube to be found. But I’d had a girlfriend back in high school that could’ve suck-started a leaf-blower…”

“Nice image,” Neal commented with a touch of disapproval.

Peter grimaced. “So I tried to imitate things she’d done that drove me wild. He forgot his name, all right.”

Neal nestled closer. “You haven’t lost your touch.” Peter blushed faintly and Neal kissed him. “So you had a passionate affair… what happened?”

“Life. We were… I guess you’d call it ‘friends with benefits’ now… up through senior year. I was headed to Quantico after graduation and he got an invite to join the local philharmonic. He’s a cellist. We still e-mail. It wasn’t some great tragic romance; we didn’t break each other’s hearts. We were just two people who cared about each other a lot and still do. Hell, he was my best man when I married El.”

“Where is he now?”

“He got in on Trans-Siberian Orchestra; I’ll take you next time they’re in town. He always offers me the full package; can’t always take advantage of it, between the Bureau and El’s events during the holidays, but I think you’ll like it.”

“Never heard of ‘em.”

Peter grinned. “This ain’t like the deviled ham sandwich. You’ll love it; they put on a great show.” For a touch of emphasis, Peter kissed him, quick and sweet. “I might even introduce you.”

Neal smiled. “You always manage to surprise me, Peter. I never would’ve guessed that you’d experimented in college.”

“Why? Because I’m a fed?”

No. You’re so… so…” Neal groped for a word, a bit flummoxed that he even had to. But this was _Peter_ … “Conventional,” he concluded finally.

“Yeah, maybe. I didn’t give it much thought back then; who thinks when they’re twenty? Later, when I met El, it was just something I’d done. Someone in my past. She and I didn’t go into detail about old lovers.”

“You mean Elizabeth doesn’t know and I do?” Neal blinked, again surprised.

Peter just kissed him again. “You asked.”

“Only because I couldn’t figure out how you seemed so…” Neal colored just a bit. “Well, you _definitely_ aren’t a novice at this.”

“Oh, I learned quite a bit,” Peter replied, just a touch smugly. His tone then turned serious. “But then, I doubt you were before you went inside, either. Not from what you said the night you told me.”

Neal grew quiet for a moment, his eyes dimming slightly. “No… I wasn’t.”

“Neal…”

Peter’s mouth was suddenly occupied before the worry and pain in his voice could cut Neal deeper. “It’s not what you think, Peter. I wasn’t abused as a child or raped the first time. It was a mark, that’s all. I needed to close the deal and that’s what it took. It’s never been about… well… with men, before prison, it was always just part of the game. And now, I’ve got you.”

Peter rolled into Neal, molding him close and kissing him. “Yeah… you’ve got me.”

* * *

The rain had stopped, the clouds breaking up to reveal what few stars could be seen through the city lights. Neal lay awake, watching Peter sleep as moonlight and cityscape spilled a pale, gauzy shimmer across them. Peter looked younger, less burdened when he slept. Like he was just a man, and the world wasn’t balanced on his shoulders.

_”I’m not here investigating you, Neal.”_

A chill crept over Neal’s skin as words returned that he’d tried to forget.

_”You want to find your girl, Caffrey, you’d best look closer to home.”_

Peter cared about him, felt responsible for keeping him safe. He wouldn’t have orchestrated Kate’s leaving him. Couldn’t be going this far to keep them apart.

_”When are you gonna stop throwing your life away for this girl?”_

_What else do I have, Peter?_ Neal’s mind shouted back at the memory. _Who else do I have, really? In four years, you’ll let me go. If I don’t have Kate, I’ll be alone again._

_It’s not like you love me._

Unbidden, unwanted, Neal could not force the thought aside. He wanted Peter to love him. Which meant that he already loved Peter.

The realization brought no panic or confusion or fear: only an odd sense of melancholy and an even more peculiar sense of rightness. A key in a lock. He loved Peter Burke. Peter, who had a wife he adored and a career catching criminals. Who liked eating deviled ham and dressed deplorably low and had such a limited appreciation for beauty.

No, that wasn’t right. It was the beau monde and their contrivances that Peter couldn’t stand, the world that Neal had spent a lifetime learning to fit into. Peter appreciated real beauty, beauty that was drawn out of the canvas or stone by skilled hands… beauty in a person’s spirit as well as their flesh.

He wanted Peter to love him the way Peter loved his wife. He wanted tender kisses and understanding smiles. He wanted to be one of the beautiful things in Peter’s life. He wanted Peter to want him to stay in four years not because he was afraid Neal might go back to the life, but because he couldn’t bear to let Neal go.

Neal was used to wanting things he couldn’t have. They were easy things to want. Even his dreams with Kate, of conning and forging their way into enough money to live somewhere warm and wealthy, were easy to want. They were dreams that shot so high that even falling short would be more than he’d ever thought he could have.

His fantasies of life with Peter were quieter, closer to his grasp: a home tastefully decorated, elegant, filled with his ‘reproductions’. Peter teasing him over breakfast, loving him breathless long into the night. Laughter and simplicity. Elizabeth there, always there, with warm welcoming smiles, acknowledging that he had a right to be there with them.

Needing to push the thoughts away, Neal ghosted kisses over Peter’s chest, teasing the nipples with his tongue. His hands slid along Peter’s thighs and flanks, stroking with feathery caresses, arousing Peter until he was fully erect before he was fully awake.

“Insatiable,” Peter murmured.

“Yes,” Neal agreed. He was, after all.

Peter chuckled and rolled him, and Neal left his thoughts far behind.


End file.
